Naga's Lullaby
by nemmerel
Summary: My interpretation of what happened between the game's premonition and prologue for Fire Emblem: Awakening. I did the pairings according to my most recent playthrough :P.
1. Prologue

Staring into the blood-red eyes of his daughter, Robin became one with time.

At that moment, he ascended to the fifth-dimension, somehow able to gaze upon the flow of past to future, from reality to unreality as an eagle gazes upon the ground.

He saw the things to come, which included his demise. He spotted his own face at the instant of death, not an old face as he had hoped, but a brave one at least. He caught Chrom's image among the roiling sea of images, and then it was gone. This tide moved quickly.

He looked in the other direction and saw vignettes from the past pulled straight from his memory except in more vivid color. Happy moments like meeting the Shepherds mixed with the darker moments that came later in one infinite panorama. These shards of time swirled and swirled around him until they coalesced into a white portal. In it, Robin spied the sky of a foreign universe but could not see further than that. He looked behind him and saw his daughter in his original timeline, one where he ruled the world as Grima with her by his side. That world would be wrought with disease and pestilence, hunger and poverty, fear and anger, but at least he would be the king of that world, and he would be happy, and his daughter would be happy too.

This he knew.

The white portal led elsewhere. To another parallel timeline where he could redo everything again. He could save Chrom and Lissa and everyone who had perished in this universe, but nothing was guaranteed. He might fail again and everything would revert back to blackness. And Morgan might not be there.

Robin locked gazes with his daughter once more. Her hair was sleek and blonde like her mother's, her eyes bloody like Grima's. Her soft, snowy cheeks did not betray how many thousands of heroes she had slain at its command. She was a demon, yes, but she was his daughter, and he loved her more than the world itself.

"Father…," she pleaded, sadness creasing her lips. And at that clockless moment, when Grima had nearly taken him completely, he wanted to return to her, hold her forever, and rule the ravaged lands as wicked sovereigns.

It was then that fate had conspired to fill Robin's nostrils with the nostalgic smell of wet grass.


	2. Summer Festival

Birds chirping, leaves rustling, but it was the scent of grass that woke him.

Sweat slicked his skin all the way down to his toes. He was in a bed and immobilized under a mountain of blankets.

He glanced out the window and realized it must be morning time, because he could the see the sun buoyed on the horizon, its light refracting off the dew drops that clung to the grass. The room was small but the walls were warm. Shuttering his eyes, he tried to collect his missing memories.

"_This is not you...your fault. Promise me you'll escape from this place. Please go."_

The voice hit him like a hammerblow.

No! Chrom! The Dragon's Table! Validar!

He killed him! Is that it? Or was it a bad dream? Did he truly slay the prince of Ylisse?

Before he could think any further, a female figure entered the room. She's was carrying a wooden bucket, and he could hear water sloshing from side to side. As she walked towards him, a shaft of light threw her face into sharp relief, and his heart began to race.

A streak of blonde hair landed across her forehead, riding the draft seeping through the open door behind her. Skin alabaster, eyes emerald. Though he'd lost most of his memories, he could never forget the face of his wife

"L-Lissa?" he said dumbly, surprised he could make a sound at all.

She halted in her tracks. The bucket hit the floor like a bomb, splashing water all over the room. She covers her mouth with both hands and begins to quiver.

"Robin," she gasped, "you're awake. Oh goddess!"

She leapt on top of him and hugged him tight. Her head burrowed into his chest, her tears soaked into his shirt. He took her by the arms and held her square with his shoulders. Her cheeks were red and glistening with moisture.

"Lissa," he said, "that was me. That was me, wasn't it?"

She didn't respond, but he detected the near imperceptible nod that her chin betrayed.

He slumped back lifeless against the headboard. He also began to cry, spirit crushed by the full gravity of his crime. He half expected her to draw a blade and end his sorry life right then and there. He wouldn't blame her for that. Instead, she dabbed his eyes with her sleeve and thawed her expression into a tender smile that looked strange with the rivulets gushing from her eyes.

She explained everything to him. What happened at the Dragon's Table, how Grima possessed him, and how he killed her brother. She kept repeating that it wasn't his fault; that he was merely the Fell Dragon's vessel, and that he didn't merit her blame. That he didn't merit her brother's blame. Anyone's blame, especially his own.

He said nothing. By the time she finished, the sun had crested.

…

…

…

Robin spent the next several weeks convalescing. Lissa fed, changed, and bathed him every day, and every day he fell deeper and deeper into affection for her. She understood her duty as a keeper but also talked to him as a friend and kissed him as a lover. She was not embarrassed to sleep beside him in the nude, and Robin felt little reservation in embracing her throughout the night. Her breasts were full and tender, her thighs muscular from years of battle. And they lay together in the darkness to share warmth and trade secrets.

His physical injuries healed quickly, but the damage to his heart and to his soul took longer and could not simply be bandaged with time. He tried to reconcile with his actions, but they continued to torture him in nightmares and daymares alike.

Lissa explained that after he killed Chrom, the Dragon's Table began to cave in. One by one, the columns tipped like giant dominoes and smashed the foundations of the temple. A horrific roar boomed through the chambers. In the confusion, it was Frederick who rallied the Ylisseans and led them out of certain doom. Gregor carried Robin in a superhuman effort as they fled the collapsing rooms. Alas, not all of them made it out. Virion twisted his ankle on a protrusion and was swallowed by a hail of rubble. Libra stayed back to rescue him, but he was also buried by the debris.

No sooner did they burst through the exit than did the ancient minaret completely crumble to dust, providing a final sepulcher for three fallen souls.

Though Lissa had now lost both of her siblings, she was not without family. Sumia, the widow of her fallen brother, often stopped by to exchange gossip and goodies with her. She lived with her two daughters, Cynthia and Lucina, and read to them tales of nobility and heroism each night before they slept.

"We'll visit them when you're better," said Lissa. "We'll bring tulips. They love tulips."

"But why?" asked Robin. "Why do this? Why let me get close to your family? I'm the reason why your brother died, why Virion and Libra both perished."

Lissa took his head and pressed it against her bosom and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Because it wasn't you."

"Then what about …_ it_? _Grima_?"

Lissa sighed. "After the ruins, we scoured the continent. Reports came in from elsewhere that the Risen had all but vanished. No sign of the dark force anywhere. Poof. Like puff of smoke into the sky."

"Like a puff of smoke," Robin repeated.

She nodded. "We looked and looked and looked but we found nothing. Valm was quiet, Plegia was quiet. I guess you weren't the perfect vessel that Validar said you were. Maybe Grima tried to synchronize itself with your body but failed and faded away. That's what Frederick says."

"Maybe it went back to sleep."

"Maybe," she said. "But all we know now is that there's peace now. The specter of a specter shouldn't rule over us."

The rest of the Shepherds, Lissa told him, were able to escape and return here to Ylisstol, where serenity had returned. Many, however, headed elsewhere.

Anna hit the road and went back to the traveling merchant business. Last told, she was selling magic tomes for cheap by Port Ferox.

Gregor and Nowi married and moved to the east, where they had a crimson-haired manakete child named Nah.

A month passed before he could finally stand without assistance. It was the first week of August, and the annual rain festival was to be held at the town center. This occasion marked the end of the intensive planting season and welcomed the coming of the hot summers which were famous in this world. There, the townspeople would pray to Naga for rain and for a good harvest when autumn finally arrived. The town governor prepared a feast which was to commence at twilight under the burning of a pyre (as was the tradition).

Lissa wore a white yukata adorned with large, red roses patterned across the fabric. She dressed her husband in a blue-and-black yukata that was two sizes too large for him, giggling as she went. When noon had passed, Robin loaded a loaf of carrot cake that Lissa had baked the night before into a sack and dangled it over his shoulder.

Walking into town, it was Cordelia who spotted them first.

"Robin!" she shouted from across the way, "good to see you out and about."

She wore a simple red yukata that complemented her hair. A solid blue obi tied the outfit together at her waist.

"Ah, Cordelia," he said. "Good to see you coming early to the festival."

"Likewise," she said. "Frederick, come here. I found Robin!"

"Frederick's here too?"

"And looking sprier than ever."

Frederick shuffled up to them with a brown satchel in his arms. He was much nimbler without his armor.

"Robin," he said, "good to know that you've recovered."

"It's been a while, Frederick."

"So it has," he said. "I hope you can participate in the red ribbon game later tonight."

"Red ribbon game?"

"Yes. After the glorified picnic we call the feast, people can volunteer to play a sort of giant game of tag. Two sides. You get tagged, you're out. Last side standing wins. Quite a spectacle."

"Well you better grow eyes on the back of your head, then," said Robin. "Because if you're not on my team, you better say your prayers."

Frederick laughed heartily. "It's unlikely we'll both participate. Everyone wants in, not everyone gets in."

"By the way, Lissa," said Cordelia, "I have to tell you something."

"Yes?" she responded, bending in closer.

Cordelia whispered something to her, and she jumped back, hands on her mouth, a look of both shock and excitement crossing her face.

"Oh my goddess, congratulations!" she exclaimed.

"Cordelia," said Frederick, "you told her already?"

"Yes, why not? Lissa is our friend," said Cordelia. "And so is Robin. Guess what, Robin?"

"What?"

"I'm pregnant!"

"H-Huh?"

"Yeah, I'm pregnant. I think she'll be due by mid-winter. Miriel's child will finally have a friend to play with."

"You think it's a girl then?" asked Robin.

"Oh, I know it. I've been eating tons of spinach and olives. They say it'll pretty much guarantee a girl if you eat those things. And I've already got a name from her. She'll be called Sev-"

"Okay, dear, that's enough," said Frederick, taking her by the hand. "Why don't we go on ahead and pick up Olivia and Lon'qu. They're expecting us now."

"Yes, yes, I forgot about that."

The two bid farewell and quickly jogged through a side alley and out of sight. Lissa and Robin strolled in the direction of the town center, which was a row of government offices that lined an open plaza. In the center of the plaza was a fountain, and in the center of the fountain stood an alabaster statue of Naga, mouse half-open in reciting an incantation. On the other side of the plaza existed a market, many rows deep and almost a mile across. It brimmed with activity, the unlocalized sounds of laughter and jeering and haggling and bartering loud enough to echo off the fortifications that encircled the city. Adjacent to the market was an open field, many acres in area, used for grazing. This was where the festival would take place.

When they had nearly arrived, they were spotted by Maribelle.

"My, my. Fancy seeing you here, Robin," said the lady donning an ornate – almost gaudy – yukata. Bright flowers of every imaginable color stippled the pink fabric and made her entire body seem to glow.

"Hey, Maribelle," said Robin. "Where's your husband?"

"Oh, Ricken? He's a bit behind. I tasked him with carrying all the customary nourishment for the feast plus a few addition sundry items for our child."

"You mean…"

"Ah, that's right," said Maribelle, "I didn't tell you, did I? Jem is about three months along now. We're anticipating her in late February."

"You wish for a girl as well?"

"Yes, and by 'also', I assume you're referring to Cordelia?" asked Maribelle.

Robin nodded.

"I found out about her good fortune today. I'm sure you did as well. I always seem to be the first to find these things out. But anyway, yes. I'm eating as many carrots and fish eggs as I can. I'm also throwing out all the spinach and olives I have in the house, so let me know if you want any of that. Ricken can't stand them."

"Spinach and olives?" asked Lissa. "But Cordelia said she was eating those things so she can have a girl."

"Unfortunately, she's mistaken. Everyone knows that you eat spinach and olives only if you want a boy."

"Oh, I guess you're right."

"You don't have to guess, Lissa. I'm the standard reference for all things natal. Anyway, it seems that Ricken is taking a lot longer to catch up than I thought. You'll have to excuse me as I go and try to locate him."

"Sure," said Lissa, "see you at the festival."

They walked on and merged with more and more people until they arrived at the grazing field, which was now entirely filled with energetic bodies. Many of them were on pilgrimages from neighboring towns, from Ferox, even from Plegia (perhaps even one or two from Valm). The women all dressed in ornate yukatas of every color, jet black to snow white, with arrangements of flowers, birds, and other emblems of nature patterned among them. The men wore simpler garments. Some arrived in loose robes, others in tight shorts, and even few in nothing but a white rag to hide their private parts, and it was understood that these men sacrificed their share of the budget to satisfy the vanity of their wives.

The travelers flowed like a rainbow river.

All of them carried food for the feast. Sushi from the coastal towns, onigiri from the wetter parts of Ylisse, prime slices of pork and beef and chicken and fish, cornucopias filled with strawberries, grapes, bananas, apples, walnuts, almonds, and foreign produce that Robin had not seen before but nevertheless looked delicious. They set them all beside a gigantic wooden pyre, countless bodylengths tall, and at least twenty bodylengths wide. It stood atop an artificial mound like an extraterrestrial monolith. It was told that it took a thousand trees just to construct the wood of the royal axes which were then used to fell the trees for this pyre.

The festival goers placed their platters of food around the monument in concentric circles starting at a wide berth from the pyre (standing even fifty feet from the flames was equivalent to being the victim of a direct arcfire spell) and then sat between them. This process had begun when the sun surfaced from the horizon and would not end until the sun returned there. Robin unloaded the carrot cake from the sack and left it among the other countless plates of food.

Once everyone had finally finished dropping off their offerings, the festival's chief organizer stepped atop the mound and gave his speech. He wielded a booming voice. After thanking all those who could make the fete, he recited his prayer for rain and a good harvest. When he finished, he was handed a torch by an assistant. He tossed the torch into the pyre and a small flame ignited at its center. All the participants cheered in unison. Soon, the little fire would engulf the entire structure.

That was the signal to begin the feast. Robin didn't miss a beat. Before he knew it, he found himself devouring a drumstick and then another drumstick and then a third drumstick. Finishing that, he ingested an entire string of green grapes and then chased it down with a few heroic gulps of wine. Then he moved on to the fish. Salmon, tuna, marlin in combination with oyster sauce, soy sauce, hot sauce, everything. A thousand people around him were doing the same thing.

"Slow down," said Lissa. "You'll choke on something."

Robin only managed to utter solitary syllables between crunching and munching on rolls of sushi.

"I knew you were a fast eater, but jeez."

Another voice. "Is that you, Robin?"

He turned around to find a familiar lady dressed in an unfamiliar garment. "Cherche!"

"I knew it was you. I could recognize that frizzled hair from a mile away."

"Cherchy!" Lissa exclaimed as she leapt into her arms.

"Lissa, you must be relieved to have your husband able to leave the house now."

"Yes, just in time for the festival too," she said. "And how's your husband? How's Vaike?"

"As enterprising as always. Vaike tells me that he feels Vaiker than usual today. I don't really know what that means, but I think it's good."

"Does he still keep the axe sharp?"

"If he can find it, which is about half the time."

"And how's Minerva," asked Robin?

"I'm glad you asked," said Cherche with a smile. "We flew down to the Grand River last week to see the water lilies. She loved eating the grass and scaring away the frogs."

Robin felt a tug at his shirt. "Look," said Lissa, pointing past the crowd, "the red ribbon game is starting!"

The man with the booming voice climbed atop an elevated platform and waited for everyone to notice his presence. Finally, he raised his hands and spoke to the crowd like a preacher.

"Now, it's time to partake in one of the oldest Ylissean traditions. Many hundreds of summers ago, the first Exalt of Ylisse vanquished the Fell Dragon with the divine blade Falchion. With each slash of the sword, the Exalted hero drew the dragon's blood, which sprayed into the air and rained upon the ground until it reeked of iron. We know this because the chroniclers of the time wrote much of this scene and described that moment of triumph in painstaking detail.

"The red ribbon game originated as a representation of this event. Participants will each receive a colored rag and strips of red ribbon, which represents the wounds opened at the contact of a sharpened edge. Tie the rag around your waist; the color of the rag is your team, either blue or orange. Tag participants of the other color by tying them with your ribbons, and continue until only one team remains."

The crowd applauded.

"Please don't be too rough."

The crowd laughed.

"And remember to have fun," said the announcer. "Now, those who would like to participate, please approach the platform."

All at once the bodies shifted in one magnetic pull, dragging Robin toward the platform where a line of soldiers began to toss out rags of blue and orange into the sea of hands. Men, women, and children alike hopped up in hopes of securing a rag. The booming voice carved once more through the wild hoots and shouts.

"Fifty per side. If you get a rag, come to the square. Otherwise, please give our participants some space."

Robin raised his hands dumbly and somehow intercepted a rag out of the air.

"Lucky," a child said. "That was mine!"

"Go, go, go," said another. "You're on the blue side. Get up there."

He felt palms shove him forward and soon found himself in a space cordoned off by guards. It was a small clearing in the grazing fields about the size of Arena Ferox.

After tying the rag around his waist, he searched amongst his co-competitors for anyone he might recognize. A solitary figure donning a pink yukata caught his attention.

"Olivia!"

She turned, wearing a startled expression. "Robin, I didn't know you were here."

"I didn't think you'd be the kind of person to do something like this."

"I don't know," she said. "The rag just kind of fell into my hands, and before I knew it, the crowd had pushed me up here."

"Your outfit looks really nice."

"T-thank you," she said, blushing. "I made it myself."

"Impressive! You wield a needle as skillfully as a blade."

"Oh, you're flattering me," she said. "I got a lot of help from my husband. He bought the fabric and helped me with the hard parts."

"Which reminds me, I haven't seen Lon'qu around. He's here?"

"I'm sure he's watching. Everyone's watching. It's so embarrassing."

"You'll do fine, Olivia."

"Thanks, Robin. By the way, you should have these." She procured a dozen long, red ribbons from her inner sleeve and handed half to him.

"How are we supposed to use these? I don't imagine they'll just stand there and let us tie these around them."

"It's a bit complicated, but you have to make a special knot like this. See? Just loop it through here and you'll form a lariat. Now you can throw it like a lasso and when you pull, it'll tighten."

"I see. Am I doing it right?"

"Whoa, you pick things up fast! As expected from the great tactician. And look, if you're really good, you can also throw it. See that?"

"Very nice. I think I'm getting the hang of it. Do you know when thi–"

The booming voice interrupted. "Begin!"

The crowd cheered.

Robin and Olivia were caught unready as men and women and children whizzed by them. The event had started.

Blue-rags collided into orange-rags, ribbons flew about like confetti. People tripped and dodged and spun as the spectators infected them with their delirium. He knew this chaos. It was the chaos of battle. In his ears he heard the ghostly clangs of steel against steel.

Robin's movements were precise and automatic. He whipped a ribbon at an opponent and tightened the loop around his waist. Out. Another ribbon at another competitor's legs. Out. A frenzied man charged at him, swinging a ribbon above him like a flail. Robin's muscles activated instinctively; he sidestepped the strike and countered with a strike of his own to the arms.

Glancing over at Olivia, he discovered that she was also faring well amid the bedlam, a consequence of her experience as a dancer and swordfighter. In fact, she was maneuvering more fluidly here than on the real battlefield. He remembered that Olivia had been one of the few fighters among Chrom's army who had trouble lifting an iron sword. But without the restriction of having to wield such a heavy instrument, she could move about much more freely.

The number of competitors the arena decreased until only the adroit few remained.

Five against four. Robin and Olivia both eliminated one orange-rag each but at the cost of three teammates.

Two against two. A teenage girl plunged forward brandishing the ribbon like a whip. Robin recognized this maneuver from the hundreds of Risen myrmidons he'd bested. The girl feinted as Robin had predicted, and he counterattacked with a successful lasso around her neck.

Two against one. The last orange-rag, a young man, slung a ribbon at Robin. He dodged, letting Olivia switch in. She zigzagged towards her target, but failed to make contact. The man rushed in with unnatural speed and lassoed her ankles together, eliminating her from the match.

"He's quick, Robin. Watch out!"

The young man quickly flung a ribbon at him like a shuriken. It was surprisingly accurate, and Robin was forced to twist his body to avoid the attack. Before he could fully recover, the man threw another one at him, and he knew this time he wouldn't be able to escape.

Out of nowhere, a second ribbon shot in and knocked the first one out of the air.

"Huh?"

"Hi, Robin," said a large figure standing close by.

"Kellam? Where'd you come from?"

"I was here the whole time, but no one was paying attention to me."

"Well, heck," said Robin, regaining his ready stance. "Help me get this last guy!"

The young fighter, now panting, clutched one ribbon in each hand, and whipped at them wildly. Both deflected the strikes and then at the same time, moved in for the final blow.

"Dual strike!" they shouted.

Robin's ribbon tightened around the man's right arm, and Kellam's around the left.

"And it's over! Blue team wins this year's red ribbon event!" proclaimed the booming voice.

The onlookers roared in approval.

Three men stepped in and lifted Robin above their heads to celebrate. Cheers erupted all over the fields.

Kellam, the other victor, stood alone as they carried off their hero.

"Oh, ummm. Good game, guys…. Guys?"

…

…

…

Once they returned to home, Lissa lit a candle and placed it on the nightstand.

"When the flame burns out, we'll sleep. But I wanted to see your face first. And I want my face to be the last thing you see today."

"Lissa…"

"Turn around. I give a good back massage."

Robin lay on his stomach, limbs splayed across the bed. She kneeled over the small of his back, thighs firm against his. Her fingers kneaded at his shoulder muscles and descended slowly to his waist. A puff of wind soughed in through the half-open window and the flame flickered in its slipstream. Shadows bounced across the empty wall.

"That was a great show you put on," said Lissa, giggling. "I was cheering the whole time."

"I'm a bit rusty. I could've dodged that last one."

"Maybe it's a good thing you couldn't, because that would mean you were still fighting. I don't want to lose you. I want to be with you forever."

"Me too."

She slid her hands across the nape of his neck, sending chills down his spine. "I can't believe Cordelia and Maribelle are both having kids. Cherche is pregnant too, you know. Everyone is having children."

"How come she didn't say anything?"

"She thinks that the only man who should know about a woman's pregnancy is her husband. She's very old-fashioned."

"I see."

Lissa leaned in, breasts pressed against his upper back, lips beside his ears.

"I want children too," she whispered.

"Children? Plural?"

"One son and one daughter. A son with a bright smile and a strong will, a daughter with golden hair and a righteous heart. We'll raise them well. They won't have to know about the terror we've had to live through."

"So soon? Aren't you rush—"

"You'll be a good father. I know it."

"B-but this is a bi—"

"Robin, turn around."

He looked back just in time to see her wife's smile before the candle burned out. In the newfound darkness, a pair of lips locked with his and a tongue slid into his mouth. Robin offered little resistance as Lissa wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him into her bosom. She took his hand, closed it over her, his thumb gliding up her inner thigh. Electricity surged through each point of contact as skin rubbed against skin. Robin was surprised at how responsive she was at even the slightest tease. Breaths heavy, fingers interlocked, animal instinct stole over them.

Outside, embers continued to rise skyward. The pyre burned and burned and burned throughout the night and then flared up in one brilliant climax before a morning drizzle quenched it completely.


	3. An Unwanted Visitor

_Robin, Robin, Robin._

Hmm?

_Robin, Robin, Robin._

Who is that?

_Robin, Robin, Robin._

Stop. Stop saying my name.

_Hehhehheh._

Who's doing that? Answer me.

_Lissa will be joining her brother soon…_

No, you stay away from her.

_Do you see her falling into the abyss? Her screams, can you hear them?_

Shut up!

_There she goes into blackness. Hehhehheh._

Who are you?

_I'm _you_, Robin. We're one entity, remember?_

Grima? No, no. It can't. You died.

_Really? How did I die?_

We … we fought our way through Aversa's generals and entered the temple. We saw you there. You were there. I remember that. You sealed us from our comrades, but Chrom and I vanquished you. He delivered the final blow.

_Keep going_.

You died there, yes. In purple smoke, yes. Yes, I remember. But something went wrong. You took control of me and you…

_I what?_

You killed Chrom.

_Remember that we're the same being now, Robin. I didn't kill Chrom. _We _killed him._

That's not true.

_It's a bitter truth you'll have to accept. _

No, I can't….

_But don't let that piddling thought distract you from your tale. Keep going. _

Chrom collapsed. He told me to escape that place and then everything went black.

_I see. And when did I ever die?_

You died when…when...

_Yes?_

I-I don't know.

_See? I never died, Robin. You were mistaken. I live inside you now. I dwell in the bottommost chambers of your psyche, lying dormant, biding my time, collecting strength so that I may summon the Fell Dragon once more._

Stop! Stop talking! Just listening to your voice is torture!

_That's because I'm evil itself. I am Grima. I am Despair. Remember that._

…

…

…

Robin woke with a start.

It was dark. The first strands of dawn had not yet begun to pierce the sky.

He peeled the covers off of his body and sat on the edge of bed, sweating, shaking uncontrollably.

"Honey," Lissa groaned, "did you have that dream again?"

"Yes. That's the third time this month."

She yawned. "Aww, it's too early to get up. I'm going back to sleep. Can you check up on Morgan?"

"Of course. Give me just a moment."

He toddled across the bedroom to the kitchen and took a sip from the water bucket. For a while, he only stood in the solitary murk. It relaxed him. The morning birds were awake already, and they were chirping outside.

Morgan slept in a cradle he crafted himself. Lissa bore her on the 5th of May, precisely eight months ago. She was a healthy birth, and she cried incessantly for attention, like other babies. Unlike other babies, however, she preferred her father's company over her mother's. Lissa often failed to placate her cries, but merely seeing her father's face was enough to send Morgan into contentment. As such, he was the one who checked up on her every morning, even though this was traditionally the mother's job.

Robin stood over the cradle and watched his daughter snooze in utter peace. He brushed away a patch of hair from her forehead and then kissed her there.

Then, in a strange moment of fate that Robin would not understand until many years later, he recited Naga's Lullaby.

"Night is here,  
Have no fear,  
Sleep but do not cry,  
Trust in water, trust in fire, trust in earth,  
Naga is nigh."

Morgan cooed.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

He had never heard the lullaby before in his life.

…

…

…

Winter.

Snow in Ylisstol was a tradition. It snowed often but lightly enough so that not more than a foot of it covered the capitol at any point during the three months. Because the cold season halted most agricultural activity in the capitol, Robin and Lissa could visit their old comrades often.

Cordelia bore a girl named Severa (that birth was joyous), Cherche, a boy named Gerome (that birth was also joyous), and Maribelle, a boy named Brady (the mother was so shocked at the revelation of her child's sex that she fainted, causing a great scare for Ricken).

Panne, the proud taguel, lived with her husband Gaius on the other side of the city. They were not farmers but gatherers. Panne's extraordinary sense of smell allowed her to sniff out rare roots and fungi growing underground, which she then dug up and transported to her home. There, Gaius treated the findings with different sugars, syrups, and sweet oils in various quantities to achieve a perfect balance of richness and texture. He then brought these goods to market to sell for a high price and earned him and his wife a place among the richer families of Ylisse. They raised a son of two years named Yarne.

Tharja and Henry lived in Ylisstol for a few months before moving back to their hometown of Plegia under pseudonyms. They were a supremely odd couple that spread unease wherever they went. Tharja was often caught reciting spells in public, while Henry preferred to stay at home and experiment with blood alchemy and crow breeding. But the two adored each other and shared an unspoken bond that only their mutual backgrounds in dark magic could afford them.

Tharja bore a daughter named Noire, who was severely underweight and sick at the time of her delivery, but went on to make a full recovery.

Lissa was three months pregnant with their second child.

Things seemed to be returning to normal.

…

…

…

The government of Ylisstol had been in turbulence ever since the death the Exalt Emmeryn, and it had degraded into deeper disarray when news of Chrom's demise reached the capital. No one mentioned that it was Robin who slew him; this secret was kept between those who witnessed the event in an unsaid understanding.

Because Cynthia and Lucina carried the blood of the last Exalt, they were named the rulers of the Halidom, with Lucina taking priority over her sister due to her mere eleven months of seniority. However, since neither had reached adulthood, Sumia was designated Lord Protector of the two children. Having no experience in leading a nation, she appointed a cadre of advisers with Frederick at its head.

Lissa delivered a letter to Sumia a month ahead of time to ask for an audience with her and her children. Because Cynthia and Lucina were the last in Chrom's lineage, all contact with outsiders was monitored and documented to obviate any attempts at assassination. Lissa, who shared blood with the children, was allowed special privilege to visit them at any time. Robin, however, needed to have his background checked and approved, so his wife sent the request on his behalf. This inquiry was expedited (usually, it took six months for a response), and permission was granted after just three weeks.

The castle guards were curt. They checked his person for hidden weapons, his bags for any contraband (he only took a bouquet of tulips), and then verified and re-verified the imperial seal on the letter of invitation to the castle. Lissa was exempt, and she watched all of this with impatience. Finally, after interrogating him about his intentions and nature of the visit, they allowed him to pass.

"Jeez, that took a while," she said.

"Yeah, those guys don't play around. No words or actions wasted. All business."

"I'm sooo glad I didn't have to go through any of that."

"Lucky you."

"Ha, I'm sorry," she said, "but I was about to die of boredom just waiting for you to finish. You have a lot more patience than I do. I like that about you."

She pecked him on the cheek.

"Shhhhh, what if someone sees us?"

"I don't care."

She pecked him on the other cheek.

When they reached the entrance to the royal chamber, a guard checked Robin's invitation (again) and then opened the door to the room, whereupon they were greeted by the Lord Protector and her two blue-haired girls, both about four years of age.

"Sumiaaaaaaa! Cynthia! Lucina!"

"Auntie Lissa!"

The two blue-haired girls dashed over to her and each claimed one of her legs.

"Great to see you, Lissa," said Sumia. "How's Morgan coming along?"

"Excellent," she replied. "Morgan's not even eight months old and she's already starting to form sentences."

"Ah, Cynthia here didn't speak until she was almost a year old, believe it or not, and now she's the biggest source of noise in the castle."

"Yep," beamed Cynthia.

Sumia laughed. "She takes pride in that. Oh, and how's the other baby?" she asked, pointing to Lissa's bulging belly.

"Energetic to say the least," said Lissa. "Kicks around like a mule. If he's this much work now, imagine how he'll be like once he's born."

"A boy, then?"

"We hope. Robin picked out a name for him: Owain."

Sumia turned to him. "A wonderful name." There was a faint quaver in her voice. "It's good to see you, Robin."

"It's an honor to have an audience with you, Lord Protector." He wasn't sure how she felt about him. After all, he was her husband's murderer. Some residue of bitterness still lingered in her heart, no doubt, but at the same time, she was not a vengeful soul. Perhaps she could see that it was Grima who was to blame and not him. Either way, it was wise to exercise tact.

"Oh, Robin, you don't have to be so formal with an old friend," said Sumia.

"As you please, milady. Any trouble brewing in the outside world?"

"None so far as we can tell. Plegia has been sending envoys to us to try and maintain peace on the borders. We've established new trade agreements, and tariffs are lower than ever. Both nations are prospering more than ever. The historians are already calling it a Pax Ylissea."

"And what about…"

"No reports of Risen at all. The land is safe for now, but we'll be keeping an eye on things," said Sumia. "Are those tulips?"

"Yes, the prettiest ones from the garden."

"Actually, Robin just bought them from the florist on our way here," said Lissa.

Sumia laughed. "Thanks. The children love tulips."

"Two lips," said Cynthia.

"No, no, sis, it's 'tulips'. One word."

"Tulips," repeated Cynthia.

"Here," said Robin, offering her one, "take it."

She accepted the flower eagerly, inspected it, and then held it above her head. "I am Marth, hero of Eel-east (Ylisse)! Rah! Rah!" she proclaimed, thrust it in and out like a lance.

"Cyn-thiaaa," Lucina whined, snatching the flower from her hands.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"Marth didn't use a lance, dumby. He used the Falchion, and that was a sword, see?" said Lucina, holding the tulip like an épée.

"Oh, whatever," said Cynthia. "Maybe I'll just stick to being Cecil then."

Lissa giggled.

"Kids," said Sumia, "this is Robin, by the way. He was a great adviser for us during the wars."

"Uncle Wobin," said Cynthia.

Lucina poked her in the forehead. "Ow!"

"Robin, sis. Robin."

"Good day to you girls," he said to them.

"Good day, Uncle Robin," they said in unison.

He studied their eyes and found no traces of animosity, only curiosity. And Robin realized that now would be the only time that they would gaze upon him with such innocence. Once their mother was to tell them the true circumstances surrounding their father's death, they would harbor only hatred for him. But for now, they were free from history.

Robin knelt down so that he was at their eye level. "Cynthia," he said, "do you like it in Ylisstol?"

"Yes, I like it a lot. I love the food and the comfy beds and the gardens and the birds. I get to play every day and sometimes I wear makeup and try on mama's clothing."

"You'll be a good wife. Enjoy every moment. You will remember these times when you grow older."

Robin shifted gaze to Lucina. "And how about you, young Exalt? What do you want to be when you get older?"

"I want to be the greatest ruler ever! I'll lead our knights into battle and take down our foes in one blow just like father."

"Just like…"

"Father, the bravest warrior of them all," she said. "Mama tells me stories of him and his holy sword, how he traveled a thousand miles to face evil, how everyone around him looked to him for strength, how …"

"That's enough, Lucina," said Sumia.

"…how he was the greatest swordsman on the continent, how…"

"Enough!"

Lucina shrank back. Robin himself had never heard Sumia raise her voice before.

"Ah, I'm sorry," she said, eyes pink.

"Don't be. I understand," he said. "It seems that it was a mistake for me to come here. If my presence is too much of a burden, then I'll go."

"No, you don't have to…"

"I insist," said Robin. "But before I do, let me ask you, what do you plan to tell the children about … their father's passing?"

"My husband believed in this, and I do too: the ugly truth must prevail over a beautiful lie."

"I see." Robin looked once more at the two children. "Cynthia, if you wish to become a lady of fine manners, then listen to your mother, for she is a lady with the finest manners that I know. If your aspirations change with age, then strive for those instead, but never lose your thirst for life.

"Lucina, you will become a strong noblewoman and a prudent queen. If evil should befall your kingdom, then I shall trust you to restore the peace. And when many summers pass, and you know more than you know now, I will be expecting your knock on my door."

Robin turned to Sumia. "Take these tulips and plant them in your garden. Collect their seedlings and save them for the future. If just seeing my face troubles you, then look upon the tulips instead. They'll remind you of the good things about me without bringing up the bad."

She received the flowers. "I will do that."

Robin bid farewell to her and the children and thanked them for their time.

"Wait," said Lissa, "what about dinner and all that?"

"You don't have to leave," he said, "But I can't stay. That'd be rude. I'll see you back home."

He left his company in thunderstruck silence and exited the castle without another word to the guards.

The royal garden remained fallow that winter.


	4. Owain

A few days before her projected due date, Lissa requested that Robin buy some nagafish from the market. She'd seemed rather pale recently, so Robin asked for a priest to visit her. After checking her signs of health, the priest concluded that she needed to remain in bed for the rest of her pregnancy and recommended that she drink lots of fluids and eat saltwater fish, a rarity in Ylisse.

And so there he found himself at the center of a smelly seafood market in the middle of June with absolutely no idea of what a nagafish was supposed to look like.

"Is that Robin?"

"Yes, I do believe that is our comrade."

He turned. "Sully? Miriel?"

"Yo, what's up, tactician?" asked Sully.

"Nothing much, Sully," he replied. "How's your husband?"

"Kellam? Hah, that ol' ball o' goof. He still can't keep up with me when we spar. But I gotta hand it to him, he's got a big heart to go with that big body."

"And Kjelle? Is she alright?"

Sully nodded. "Better than alright. She's growin' up to be a real wildcat. She can already hold up a miniature lance. Can you believe it? Only three years old and she can do that. And she also loves to sleep inside Kellam's armor. Makes her feel safe, you know?"

"Great to hear that," said Robin. "And, Miriel, I haven't seen you in a while. What brings you to the seafood market?"

"Fish oil," she replied. "Specifically, hair gel confected from fish oil. For Stahl, of course. He's chronically remiss about tidying up his hair, and I fear that one day it may gain sentience and devour him whole."

"I just decided to tag along," said Sully. "But, seriously, have you _seen_ that thing recently? Ask me whether we could conquer Plegia or Valm, and I'd say 'yeah'. Ask me whether we could fix Stahl's hair, and I'd have to think about it."

"Ever consider just shaving it all off? You know, like going full Basilio?"

"The thought had occurred to me," said Miriel.

Sully laughed. "I can't even imagine…"

"By the way, Miriel," said Robin, "where's Laurent? Don't you usually bring him with you when you go out?"

"Your assessment is accurate," she said, "but this instance is special. Olivia, Sully, and I agreed to send our children on a play date at the grazing fields. We believe that having our offspring intermingle during their formative years will yield maximal social benefits."

"Oh, I see. I think?" said Robin.

"And what are _you _doing here, mister?" Sully asked.

"Uhhh, I'm looking for nagafish."

"What in the world for?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes."

"Okay, it's for Lissa."

"I comprehend," said Miriel. "Nagafish is the traditional prescription to assuage malaise or lethargy during gestation."

"Your gal's got malaise or lethargy or whatever?" asked Sully.

"She's a bit pale, is all," he said. "To be honest, I think she just wants to know what nagafish tastes like."

"A perfectly valid motive," said Miriel. "In fact, I too wish to ascertain the flavor of nagafish."

"Yeah, me too," said Sully. "Let's find someone who sells it already."

The three of them roamed the market for thirty minutes before they found a nagafish vendor at a small corner stall. They gawked at the price, haggled it down a marginally lower price, and then finally agreed to split the cost equally among them.

"Damn," said Sully, "this thing smells weird. I've got buyer's remorse already."

"I'm afflicted with similar reservations," said Miriel.

"Well, at least I'm not the one who's going to eat this," said Robin.

"I surmise that though nagafish may smell noxious, it may offer a delectable taste when cooked."

"For that price, it better."

"By the way," said Sully, "the summer festival is in less than a month, and Kjelle's looking for some new playmates. You could bring your pipsqueak with ya' and join the fun."

"Laurent will attend," said Miriel. "Additionally, many of our former comrades will be joining us with their progeny."

"The usual suspects. Severa, Gerome, Brady, and Inigo will all be there. Then there's the two little queens, Cynthia and Lucina. They'll be there in disguise."

"Yarne as well."

"Yeah, the last of the taguel will be making an appearance, don'cha'know?"

"Even our acquaintances from afar will be present," said Miriel. "Noire and Nah."

"That actually sounds like something Lissa and I would go for."

Sully jabbed him in the ribs. "The more the merrier."

"Then I'll see you there," said Robin. "Enjoy the fish."

"Will do," said Sully. "Adios, amigo."

"Farewell," said Miriel.

On his walk back, Robin contemplated how to properly prepare the nagafish. He had planned to stop by Cherche's house for her advice, but an army of black thunderheads invaded the sky and inflicted a sudden storm upon the city. He decided to take a shortcut home.

With droplets pattering on his head, Robin's thoughts turned to the summer festival. The feast and the red ribbon game and Morgan gamboling about with the other children. He looked forward to these things.

Lightning forked the horizon.

…

…

…

On July 15th, the cicadas did not thrum, the crickets did not chirp. It had rained for five days straight and on the fourth day, the rain turned red. The wiser fishermen knew this was because the clouds drew their water from the Western beaches, which were colored red by the dense spores of the local algae. These 'blood rains' were not uncommon on the Plegian coasts, but they were exceedingly rare in Ylisse, let alone an inner city of Ylisse. The holy men, of course, deemed it a dark omen.

Lissa went into labor that evening as Robin was preparing dinner. He sent his neighbor to retrieve a midwife, who arrived just as Lissa began to have major contractions.

The midwife instructed Robin to retrieve a large tub of water, leave it in the bedroom, and then wait outside until the birth had completed. Traditionally, men were not allowed to take part in assisting parturition, since it was considered bad luck.

He did as he was told. He fetched the water, left it with the midwife, and then lay in the adjacent room, listening to the moans of his wife against the white noise of rain. Though this was his second time going through this, he felt considerably more anxious.

Six hours passed.

Finally, at around midnight, the cry of a baby sounded through the house.

Robin broke out of his half-slumber and burst into the bedroom, nearly ripping the door from its hinges.

Lissa met him with exhausted eyes and smiled weakly. "It's a boy."

The midwife washed away the blood and then doused salt on his skin for good luck. She then dried off the water and swaddled him in fine linen before letting Lissa hold the child. "Owain," she whispered. "You've finally arrived."

Robin caressed the baby and marveled at how delicate he was. His hands were tiny but soon they would be able to wield even the heaviest blade. A laugh escaped Robin's mouth. This unadulterated joy had passed through him once before at Morgan's birth, but to experience it again was a true privilege.

The baby began to cry.

Blood suddenly gushed onto the bed. His body went numb. He stared at it vacantly for a moment before his mouth would move. "Lissa, you're bleeding," he said stupidly.

More blood. Robin tried to sop it up with towels, but they were quickly saturated, and the blood began to soak into the sheets and drip onto the floor.

"Do something!" he screamed at the midwife.

"I-I don't know," she stammered. "I've never had this happen before."

"Then bring someone who knows what they're doing in here, goddamnit!"

"Y-yes," said the midwife, rushing out of the room.

Robin grabbed more towels and tried to plug the hemorrhaging, but the flow did not stop.

"Oh, god. I can't…. I'll get more towels from the other room. Hold on."

She tugged weakly at his shirt. "Robin, wait. Don't go," she said. "I'm feeling a bit dizzy. I-I need something to drink."

He poured a glass of water, hands trembling, and gave it to her. She only managed half a sip before her hands failed. The cup spilled on to the bed, sending liquid mixing into the bloody covers.

"Ugh, I feel … weak," said Lissa between shallow breaths. "Bright lights. I…"

"What?" asked Robin. "What is it?"

"I-I'm sorry, Robin. I … I love you so much. I…"

"Lissa?" he said. "Lissa, you're scaring me. What are you doing? Are you sleepy? Why … why aren't you opening your eyes?"

He clenched her hand, cupped her cheek, which were cold now. "Lissa!?" he shouted. "Wake up!"

Owain wailed.

"No, you can't do this to me," Robin whimpered. "You can't leave me here alone. We were supposed to raise these children together, grow old together, die together. This isn't right…"

He glimpsed at Lissa through a lens of tears, half-expecting a response, but it didn't come. She had gone.

Robin buried his face in her wife's lifeless body, holding the crying baby between them, and father and son wept together until they were too tired to weep any further.

…

…

…

The summer festival came and went. He did not go, but he left Morgan in Cordelia's care while the month-old Owain remained in his cradle.

Cordelia would later tell Robin that Morgan played with the other children into the early hours of the morning and enjoyed herself immensely.

…

…

…

Years passed.

…

…

…

_Robin, Robin, Robin._

You…

_Robin, Robin, Robin._

I know that voice.

_Your mind is in turbulence._

Yes.

_What troubles you?_

Lissa. You took her from me.

_Hehhehheh._

You took her from me.

_She was weak. The darkness overcame her._

You killed her.

_You're giving me too much credit. We are one, after all._

No...

_That means you have as much part in murdering her as I do._

That can't be.

_It can, and it is. And as for Morgan and Owain…_

Stay away from them, devil.

…_you shouldn't worry. They are strong. They will live. They will grow older and surpass their mother._

How do you know this?

_A part of me lies within them. I sense their abilities. Owain is a mere baby, but he may become a skilled swordsman. Unfortunately, he is out of my influence, for he is protected by the mark of your goddess. Morgan, however…_

My daughter….

…_she does not bear the Brand of the Exalt, so you must raise her to be a healthy child. I will have much use for her when I awaken._

That will not happen.

_Oh?_

I won't let it. I will kill you right here and now. Do you hear me, Grima?

…

…

…

Robin shot up from bed and found himself soaked through with sweat. He tore out of his covers and burst into the kitchen, grabbed a knife from the table with both hands and held it point facing his stomach.

"I'm taking you with me."

Energy pooled in his arms while he summoned the willpower to overcome any hesitation that remained. Fingers steady, blood aflame, a primal urge commanded him into action. He readied himself to plunge the blade inward.

"Daddy."

He froze.

The knife clattered to the ground in a dull _clank_ as he slowly became aware of what he was about to do. "Oh, god," he whispered, voice shaking.

"Daddy, where are you?"

Robin drank a sip from the water bucket, composed himself, and went to Morgan's room. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Daddy, can you sleep with me tonight?"

"No, Morgan, you have to learn to sleep alone."

"But it's scary."

"I'll be right next door."

"I want you to be here."

Robin sighed. "But I've been in here with you for four nights in a row."

"I don't care."

"How about I sing you Naga's lullaby?"

"What's that?"

"It's like a spell. You sing it to someone you love and that person will be protected against evil when she sleeps."

"Cool! Do it, daddy!"

Robin cleared his throat and recalled the lyrics to the lullaby.

"Night is here,  
Have no fear,  
Sleep but do not cry,  
Trust in water, trust in fire, trust in earth,  
Naga is nigh."

Morgan blinked. "Is that it? Am I protected now?"

"Yes, now go to sleep."

"Okay. Goodnight, daddy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

He kissed her on the forehead and then returned to bed. He lay there numb for three hours and then descended into a restless slumber.

...

…

…

_Lissa, how is life on the astral plane?_

_I miss you. I think about you every day. I see your visage in the sun, in the stars, in the water of the lake, in the leaves of the trees. Everything is a reminder of you._

_Morgan is doing well. She's still a scaredy-cat and won't fall asleep unless I'm with her, or I sing her her lullaby. She picks things up much quicker than other children her age. A month ago, she pulled off her first incantation. A weak fire spell to ignite a candle, but a spell nonetheless. She nailed it on her first try (usually it takes a new mage at least a dozen tries to get it right). You should've seen the look on her face when she did it. She was so happy, so, so happy, cheering, hopping up and down, and asking me if I saw it. She'll be a famous sage someday._

_Owain is four years old and already shows an affinity for the sword. He has your eyes. _

_Us three went to the summer festival for the first time together a few months ago. The feast was grand, but I didn't eat much. No appetite. _

_The red ribbon game was a hit, though. I didn't participate, but Lon'qu did, and he carried his team to victory as we rooted for him from the sidelines._

…

_Lissa._

_If we could meet in another world, would we fall in love again? Would you still play pranks on me to get my attention? _

_Hold me to your bosom?_

_Tell me your secrets?_

_Say you love me?_

…

_I do have one more thing to tell you, and you won't like it. You were wrong. You were wrong about me being a good father. I know that I'm supposed to love both our children equally, but I can't do it. When I play with Morgan and talk with her, I remember only the positive things about you. But when I even glance at Owain, I'm reminded of your death. I'm reminded of … it. _

_I've raised him for four years, but it's become too painful. I feel like I'll break apart if I'm around him any longer._

_So, I sent him to live with Sumia and her children in the castle. Since he carries the Mark of the Exalt on his arm, it was simple to prove his royal lineage. He's in good hands. _

_I know you'll hate me for this. I hate myself for it. I just hope you can forgive me._

_Please forgive me._


	5. Morgan

Sometime between Lissa's death and Morgan's first arcfire spell, Robin began to suffer from intense migraines. They assaulted him about once a week but grew more frequent and more severe the years passed. His back also began to ache when he woke up every day, which worried him. He attributed these symptoms to age, but he could never be entirely sure.

Sleeping also became a challenge, as he developed mild insomnia. He often spent hours in an unproductive limbo fantasizing about his wife; other times, visions of a black world forcefully filled his head. In this world, grass never grew and man never smiled. The sky was always gray, as if a permanent smoke had scorched it forever. Humanity, once proud and mighty, now scavenged for food among dead bodies. They were scared; they were scared because something was chasing them. Specters of some sort. Red eyes and leathery skin. These ghosts scuttled hither and yon among the smoldering lands looking for warm flesh to mutilate.

It was this nightmare that was preoccupying him when Morgan knocked on his bedroom door.

"Father."

She'd switched from "daddy" to "father" only a week ago.

"Hey, what are you doing up? It's an hour past midnight."

"I know, but I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." Robin rubbed his eyes. "Come here."

She crept across the room and sat against the headboard on the other side of the bed. A beam of moonlight illuminated her features.

"I'm sorry for overdoing that spell today, father."

"You mean the one where you almost burned off my eyebrows?"

She nodded.

"Don't worry about that," he said. "It was partially my fault. I underestimated your ability; I didn't think you'd master it on the first try. You know, now that I think about it, you've surprised me this way over and over again. Most mages don't even attempt an arcfire spell until they reach fifteen or so, and you're not even half that age."

"It's because I've got such a great teacher."

Robin chuckled. "You'll surpass me soon enough, Morgan, but I've still got a trick or two up my sleeve."

"I can't wait to see 'em!"

Suddenly, a pressure ballooned against the inside of his chest. In an instant, his heart felt like it was pumping molten lead. Everything went blurry.

_The girl._

Bright phosphenes boiled in from the edges of his vision. A high-pitched ring sounded in his ears.

_The girl will be mine._

Grima, he thought.

_Soon, she will be mine._

"You…you," he strained, "you stay away from her."

_She is strong. Stronger than her mother._

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," he muttered, clutching his torso with both hands.

_Her power is great. She will be useful to me._

A metallic throb spread from the back of his head and radiated through his brain, pulsing brightly. Robin clenched his eyes, but it did nothing to loosen the pressure.

_She will not die. She will live forever._

"Please, just … disappear."

"Father," he heard Morgan say, "are you alright?"

Her voice sheared through the agony; the noise vanished. The pain retreated as quickly as it had invaded. Robin ran his fingers through his hair and realized that it was soaked.

"Father?"

He exchanged a few shallow breaths. "Morgan, did you get any of that?"

"You were murmuring something. I couldn't hear."

He took her abruptly by the shoulders. "Morgan, I need you to listen to me very carefully."

"Father?"

"One day, something might happen to me. I might disappear. I might die. I might go insane. Whatever happens, I need you to promise that you won't follow me."

"B-but…"

"Please, Morgan."

She swallowed. "Okay. I promise."

Robin wrapped his arms around her and rocked back and forth with her in his embrace. "I love you, Morgan. That's why I can't keep you."

"I love you too, father."

…

…

…

The flow of time seemed to sap Robin's energy and transfer it to his daughter. Morgan was now ten years old and brimming with spirit. Every day, she woke up at dusk's end and drilled herself on ingredients and recipes for medicine. After her father rose from bed, she helped him prepare breakfast and water the garden. Because they lived on a royal pension, they were not tied to a farm or fishery for their livelihoods. Thus, they were free to pursue more intellectual endeavors such as studying magic and accumulating worldly knowledge.

From breakfast until lunchtime, Morgan stayed in her room devouring the latest books that his father provided for her; they never lasted more than a week on the shelf. In the afternoon, Robin encouraged her to interact with the other children. Severa and Laurent lived the closest, so they saw each other almost every day, rotating between the river, the market, and the castle walls as places to hang out throughout the week. Brady and Kjelle lived farther away, while Gerome and Inigo resided on the other side of the city, but they were all able to gather at least once a week (at the discretion of their parents) to mingle.

Owain, Cynthia, and Lucina remained relatively insulated from the rest of the townspeople. They received education from royal tutors and every night, they supped in the dining hall, which was decorated with lush draperies and overseen by a row of crystal chandeliers. However, it became evident throughout the years that the three companions were not born for a pampered life; they were restless in their studies and often they would attempt to escape the watch of the guards and run off into the city. Frederick appreciated this (he had also been a troublemaker as a child) and advised Sumia to grant the children designated days to leave the castle and mingle with the other kids. And so, on the last Sunday of every month, the ten children of Ylisstol convened on the grazing fields to play games and compete in make-believe battles.

Robin always looked forward to these gatherings because he could socialize with old friends. It soothed his mind. The psychological wounds from his wife's death still smarted, but they had at least scarred.

That morning, instead of making breakfast, Robin took Morgan to a local eatery. It was already packed wall-to-wall with patrons, and the two had to wait for half an hour before a waitress finally seated them, took their orders for simple soup, and disappeared to the back kitchen.

"Father, why didn't we cook today?"

"Morgan," he said, "look around the room. Study everything. Remember as many details as you can."

"What for?"

"It's a challenge. I want to see how good your memory is."

She affected a determined smirk. "Alright, let's do it!"

"Okay, I'll give you a minute."

Morgan's eyes immediately began to dart left and right, scrutinizing every face at every table. Her ears perked up, nostrils widened. When a group of men three tables over erupted in laughter, she noticed that; when a woman sitting on a bench across the room swatted at a fly, she noticed that too.

After a minute had passed, Robin clapped his hands. "Time's up."

"Whew, that was exhausting."

He leaned in. "Tell me, what did the man behind me order?"

"Grilled halibut and a flagon of ale."

"Without looking, how many people are sitting at the table behind you?"

"Six."

"How many of them are men?"

"Four."

"And which one of them is left-handed?"

"Well, the one wearing the cast of his right hand is using his left hand, but he's clearly not left-handed. I think it's the one who ordered the eggs."

"Alright, what was the name of the old man with the limp?"

"Richard."

"Very good, Morgan."

"Heeee..."

"One more: who in this room is likeliest to be a magic user?"

"You!"

He bopped her lightly on the head. "Ow!"

"I mean, besides me or you."

She thought for a beat and then pointed across the room. "Probably the young woman sitting over there."

"Why do you say that?"

"She's got two marks on the bridge of her nose. That means she wears glasses, and I know no one wears glasses unless it's to read. And since any woman who reads has a good chance of being a mage, I'm going to go with her."

"Wrong, smartypants. It was the boy over there. He's even got his pointed hat next to him, don't you see?"

"Argh, that's not fair. You had a better view of him than I did."

"True," he said. "I have to say, though, that was impressive. With powers of perception like that, you could easily become a top agent in the government."

"But I like medicine. I want to be a cleric like mother."

"That's what I was going to ask you next," he continued. You've got a great memory, but do you remember what your mother looked like?"

"Only what you've told me, father. I know that she gave me my blonde hair, and that I have her smile."

"Do you have any memories of her at all?"

"I don't think so."

"What's the first thing you _do _remember?"

"Your voice," she said. "You were singing a song to me. Something, something, do not cry, something, something, Naga is nigh."

Robin shifted in his chair. "But that was before your mother passed away."

Morgan shrugged. "It's weird. My mind's just empty when I try to picture her face, but everything about you is so clear." She poked his chin with her finger. "You got this scar when I was practicing a lightning spell. I just realized that I never said sorry for that, so I'm sorry, father."

"It's okay." He took her hand and pressed it against his cheek.

When the soup arrived, Robin thanked the waitress and then downed the contents of his bowl in three long gulps. Morgan claimed she was full after drinking only half of her share, but he suspected that she just wanted him to eat more after seeing him finish his portion so quickly.

"Don't worry, Morgan. I'm stuffed. You need to grow, so go ahead and drink up."

"Aww, you saw right through me."

"You're a hundred years too early to be tricking me, ya little rascal."

"Hmph."

Robin paid after she was done, and they began their walk to the grazing fields, which were two miles from the restaurant district.

The sun rode a cloudless sky that afternoon. Workers and beggars, farmers and traders, peddlers and shoppers all crowded the streets on this beautiful day of rest. Listening closely, one could hear the buskers fiddling for the passersby out of the droning static of conversation.

Leaves rustled.

Sumia and her company had been at the grazing fields for an hour before they arrived. No one else had shown up yet. When she spotted him, she nodded to a nearby soldier, signaling that they posed no harm, and then came to greet him. Morgan ran off immediately to join with the three other children in a game of tag.

"An hour early. I thought Morgan and I would be the first ones here, but you've got us beat," he said. "Good day to you."

"Good day, Robin," she replied.

Their meetings throughout the years had never grown warmer since his first visit to the castle. Robin knew that she never forgave him for her husband's death and that she never would.

"How are things in the castle?"

"Fine."

"And Plegia?"

Sumia paused. "As our former tactician, I suppose you have a right to know. In fact, it looks like we may have a situation with Plegia."

"'A situation'," repeated Robin. "I know that kind of political-speak. You're talking about war."

"Not quite. Plegia's just been more confident in their diplomacy lately. They're asking for more favorable trades and have been less apologetic for encroachments on our borders. They act like they've already restored their forces to pre-war numbers."

"Have they?"

"Probably not, but they're certainly rearming. I've reached out to our contacts in Plegia, including Tharja and Henry, and they tell me that they've already had three different army recruiters knock on their door in the past week."

She shot him a sidelong glance. "Tell me something, tactician. On that fated day at the Dragon's Table, I saw Grima take control of your body and then murder my husband. And then he vanished without a trace." She turned to face him. "I don't believe that a force strong enough to possess someone like you could just disappear."

Robin stepped back. "What are you trying to say?"

"I get these nightmares, Robin. Of the sinister spirit. I see Grima about to kill my husband, and I'm powerless to stop it. It's always the same. Have you had nightmares like that?"

"I… I have."

"Tell me about them."

"I also dream of that moment," he lied. "Grima has control of my body, and I see myself killing Chrom."

Sumia sighed. "I see," she said. "Last week, Frederick and I spoke with an envoy from Plegia who demanded that we remove several outposts from a border region by the Ylissean mountains. When I refused, he pulled out a hidden dagger and lunged at me."

"An assassin?"

"Yes. I locked eyes with him as he closed the distance. They were red like yours when you killed Chrom."

He blinked.

"Before the dagger could land, Frederick parried the blow. The assassin then used the blade on himself and muttered something before he sank it into his chest."

"What did he say?"

"'Grima is here. He is here in Ylisstol.'"

Robin said nothing, stared at his feet.

"So," said Sumia, "I hope you can see why I'm concerned."

"I understand," said Robin. "If it worries you so much, then I'll leave the capital. I'll move away from you and your children."

"And Owain?"

"I'll ask him what he wants," he said. "But I do have one condition, and that is to allow me attend this year's summer festival one more time."

"That's acceptable," she said. "Lucina! Cynthia! Owain!"

The three children ran over with Morgan close behind.

"Father!" exclaimed Owain, embracing him.

"Hey, it's only been a month, kiddo."

"I've improved greatly since our last meeting. I daresay I could match you in a duel this time. How about it?"

"Later," said Robin. "An important question: do you like the castle? Do you like this city?"

"Of course!"

"If Morgan and I were to, say, move to Southtown, would you rather remain here or go with us?"

"Gah! Why must you make me choose?"

"No reason. Just a simple question."

Owain glanced over at Lucina, who was whispering something in Cynthia's ear.

"I'm sorry, father. But Lucina promised she'd help me perfect my fencing skills, and I've got to see that through."

Robin forced a smile. "I understand."

Sumia motioned to her children and cleared her throat. "Come on, now. It's rude for you two to ignore Robin like that."

Cynthia stepped up first. "Uncle, Robin, it's good to see you."

"Likewise, Cynthia. Have you finished sewing that dress yet?"

"In fact, I will be wearing it to the festival," she said. "Will you be going?"

"I will, and I hope to see you there."

He switched to Lucina, who was staring at her feet. "And how about you, Lucina? Will you participate in the ribbon game this year?"

No response.

"Lucina, don't be rude," said Sumia.

Finally, she deigned to look at him. "I hope so."

"It's not easy. You really have to be in the right spot to even have a chance of nabbing a rag."

"I know."

"And when if you do get one, make sure you hold it tight. If you don't, someone else might rip it from your hands."

"I know."

Robin sighed. "Please take good care of my son."

Lucina grunted in acknowledgement and then turned to Cynthia and Owain. "Come on, let's finish our battle over there. You too, Morgan."

The trio ran back to the grazing fields while Morgan remained by his side. "Lucina's usually very kind to everyone. How come she was so cold to you?"

"She has her reasons," he answered. "Don't take it as a mark of character. Now, go on and join them."

Morgan happily obeyed.

Soon, the rest of the families arrived. The children fought in a giant play battle, and the adults talked of nothing but the coming festival until dinnertime.


End file.
